


Independent Variable (or, The five times Leopold Fitz couldn't say no to Jemma Simmons, and the one time he could.)

by nocturnalawoken



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Academy Era, Canon Compliant, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, How Do I Tag, Humor, Sci-Ops Era (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24458539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturnalawoken/pseuds/nocturnalawoken
Summary: Leopold Fitz can do a lot of things, thank you very much.But the one thing he's apparently unable to do, no matter how hard he tries, is say no to Jemma Simmons.(Until he has to, that is.)-A 5+1 style collection of short drabbles based on our darling science babies.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 7
Kudos: 34





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> Long time reader, first time writer... For the AoS fandom at least. This is something I've been working on in my phone's notepad over the last few nights, based on an idea I had of how the duo's friendship (and mainly Fitz' crush) would have manifested itself before we got to see it properly on our screens. It turned into this!
> 
> The first chapter will be a prologue, and I'm planning to eventually write some form of epilogue, too. Whether it will remain canon compliant or not by then, who knows. Season 7 already has me emotionally compromised.
> 
> Aiming to update every few days (or as and when my pregnant butt decides to let me). Unbeta'd, any and all mistakes are my own.  
> Hope you enjoy!

Leopold Fitz can do a lot of things (thank you very much).

At five years old, he was able count to three hundred in ones, twos, threes, fives and tens. His year one teacher, Mrs McCallum, described him on his school report as _'an exceptionally gifted young lad'_.

By the age of ten, during his year six SATs exams, he finished his maths and science papers in record time, sitting and listening to the clock tick by for a few minutes before awkwardly sticking his hand up in the air to request something "a bit more challenging".

By sixteen (much to his dismay and unfortunately, the deterioration of his already practically non-existent social life) he was widely being considered a _'child prodigy'_ , going on to earn his first PhD and becoming one of the youngest students ever to gain entry to— and not long after, graduate from— the S.H.I.E.L.D Academy of Science and Technology.

Since then, he's designed and built gadgets. Weapons. Computers. Planes. Life changing technology.

But the one thing he's apparently unable to do, no matter how hard he tries, is say no to Jemma Simmons.

(Until he has to, that is.)


	2. 1. Sci-Tech, 2006.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're sat cross legged atop Fitz' bed, knees touching as they stare with narrowed eyes at each other, various text books and pages of hand-written revision notes scattered haphazardly on the covers surrounding them.
> 
> "Rock paper scissors. Tha' keeps it fair."

They're sat cross legged atop Fitz' bed, knees touching as they stare with narrowed eyes at each other, various text books and pages of hand-written revision notes scattered haphazardly on the covers surrounding them.

"Rock paper scissors. Tha' keeps it fair."

With a huff, Jemma rolls her eyes, hands dropping down into her lap from where they had been steepled beneath her chin. "Fine. Quickly, though. We're wasting valuable time."

"Ready?" Fitz offers, cracking his knuckles before assuming the position.

And then, in perfect synchronisation (as they tend to do most things), they begin.

_"Rock, paper, scissors."_

Two fists are thrown down, the pair a mirror image of the other.

"Did you know," Jemma begins (in the endearing way she often did), her drawn hand instinctively moving to nestle back into the palm of the other, preparing for a second round, "that a lot of Americans call this game _'Ro-sham-bo'_ , named after the _Comte de Rochambeau_ who fought in against the British in the revolutionary war."

A shared look between the two of them signals round two.

_"Rock, paper, scissors."_

Two sets of scissors present themselves this time, earning a scoff of impatient annoyance from them both.

"Unlike you, Simmons, I prefer to fill my mind with actual _useful_ information, like the studying we've been doing for the past five bloody hours. Not the name of some French prick from the eighteenth century. Go again."

_"Rock, paper, scissors."_

"Ha!" Jemma shoots out her outstretched palm to grasp around Fitz' fist, tightening for a moment before dropping it to poke him in the chest. "Paper covers rock, I win, we're doing another hour."

"Jem- _ma_ tha's not fair. Y' went an' clouded my mind with y' _ro-sham-whatsit_ and talks of the French. Best two out out of three."

"Nope. Fair's fair, Leopold."

The use of his first name earns a disgruntled noise of disdain before he drops his head to his hands, his next words muffled by the insistent press of his palms against his mouth. "But 'm hungry."

"Another hour won't do you any harm."

And then, so elegantly begins what had quickly become known across the Academy over the past two years as _'FitzSimmons-ing'_.

"We could recite this stuff in our sleep you-"  
"-just an hour, it's really not that-"  
"-gonna breeze through it, just think-"  
"-imagine how much you can gloat if-"  
"-could probably _teach_ that class at this-"  
"-and if we just spend a little more-"  
"-bloody write the book on holographic-"  
"-how brilliant our track record will look-"  
"-with our eyes shut and out hands behind-"  
"- _please_ , Fitz."

That's what finally stops him in his tracks. That pleading voice paired with those wide brown eyes. _Christ he was gone on her_. How could he say no?

" _Fine_ , okay, you win. One more hour."

That earns a squeal from Jemma before she leans forward to press a kiss to Fitz' cheek, a dopey grin threatening to pull at the corners of his lips as he feels his face and ears start to gradient from an already flushed pink to a rather alarming shade of beetroot.

Worth it.

"You won't regret it. Better to be over prepared than under. And once we're done, I promise I'll drive you to Burger King. On me."

He hums for a moment, considering her offer.

"Maccies."

"Really, Fitz?"

"And my sandwich."

" _That's_ called extortion."

A smirk, then, his eyebrow raising.

"Ro-sham-bo you for it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I hope you enjoyed the first 'official' chapter! My little take on how Fitzsimmons began saying 'Roshambo' instead of 'Rock, paper, scissors', as it's not really heard of as an alternative over here in the UK. 
> 
> I like to think that Fitz got both his McDonald's and his sandwich, and that they both smashed the test out of the ball park. Fair's fair.


End file.
